


Artificial Hearts

by Hexillith



Category: Homestuck, Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Cyborgs, F/F, Legislacerator Terezi, Mercy Killing, Phyrexians, Rebel Leader Karkat, Torture, more characters added as they appear, most trolls are not phyrexians yet just cyborgs, no knowledge of M:tG required, only a single concept from that fandom is used, suicide mission, the kids are androids created by the condesce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexillith/pseuds/Hexillith
Summary: You remember when you saw her on that screen. It was half-dead, flickering, lines of static through her face. She assured the empire that he won’t disappear, no, he won’t be steamed out of history like a crease in fuchsia velvet. Told you through curved needle teeth how she’d crack open his limbs and strip the flesh bit by bit from his endoskeleton, peel off his eyelids so he has to watch it all, night after night, sweep after sweep. When she got bored of that she’d try something new. And the rest of his kind – pink light glinting off those teeth again – they’ll have their place in the order of things. They’ll be plucked from the brooding caverns before they can die, brought to bathe in the glistening oil. They will be the first of your race to ascend for the glory of their Empress, the first to be made truly compleat.His name is Karkat Vantas, and she will never, never let him die.That’s why you have to kill him.





	1. One

You’ve been on a lot of battleships, and this one isn’t any different.

You keep telling yourself that.

It’s difficult to believe it, though, because the utilitarian soldier’s quarters you’re used to are absent, and you can smell the highblood excess in the air – fuchsia like a cloying river on your tongue. You don’t need to see the smirks and glares when the seadwellers pass you by. You can imagine them just fine. Your unmodified figure sticks out even more than the teal on your uniform. The trolls here all taste like metal; the air flows around their jagged edges in ways you’re not used to.

…The food is good, though.

You sniff out strains of deep blue and they lead you home. Or rather, to the steward’s office. His name’s Raleph and his profile’s trim and wiry, with close-cropped hair. You’d accuse him of overcompensating for his domestic position, but as a blue-blood he must have spurned his birthright, the opportunity to lead a squadron on the ground. Overcompensating for something else, then? Some weakness of the will? You grin and run your tongue over the back of your teeth.

“Neophyte Pyrope?” He doesn’t sound like he’s smiling back. That’s fine – your smile wasn’t for him. You incline your head smoothly anyway, and then there’s a pause while he taps at his husktop (but quietly! Those claws must be neatly trimmed). “Of course, you haven’t been briefed. They’ve left that job to me.”

“I was told I’d be investigating a series of frauds.”

“Yes, very clever ones. So clever, in fact, that it must have been an inside job.” His words are bigger than his voice. He’s bored, and he doesn’t care if you know it. “Someone’s been redirecting resources from the battlefront to… we don’t know where. Finding out is part of your job.”

“Something your cybersecurity experts can’t trace?” That almost catches your interest, but it’s not why you’re here. You have one job, and anything you might accomplish beyond that… beyond ending Karkat’s suffering. Is only a distraction.

“Yes. Not even the Rogue, though you’ll be working with her on what leads she has. Dealing with- the more physical part of the investigation process.” Fuck. Of course you hadn’t forgotten about the Condesce’s metal dogs, but you hadn’t expected to be in such close quarters with one of them. At least it’s not the Witch. You hope you never run across the Witch.

On the way back to your quarters, you do your best to quell thoughts of the stories you’ve heard, of all the things you might not know. The problem is, your paranoia is well founded. You know this whole situation is fishy. Why would a neophyte be asked to investigate such a high-profile case? and could there be such a thing as a digital transaction that the Rogue couldn’t track? You promise yourself that whatever happens, you’ll end it before they take you.

When you catch her scent, you jump and let out a strangled sound. Vriska’s half metal now, shape hulking and more bestial than the highbloods, and you can hear the snick of blades brushing metal. And she notices you (how could she not, with the stupid reaction you’d had?) and all you can think is she knows you, she knows you, she’ll tell them who you are. Maybe you deserve that, but you have to help Karkat first. You try to keep walking but you’re frozen.

In a moment, though, Vriska lurches forward, and she’s gone before you know it, and you’re standing alone in the corridor with just her lingering scent surrounding you. She smells awful now. She’s still there, under whatever they have pumping through those hydraulics, but it’s not the cool tang of before. You’ve missed her, you realize, and then you’re half-running for shelter, entirely too quickly to avoid drawing attention.


	2. 2

            You’re back in your quarters and they seem smaller than you remember. The whole fucking ship seems smaller than you remember. Your lungs, too. You try to smooth your jagged breathing, but just end up holding it for stretches to avoid sobbing audibly.

            Vriska knows you. If she tells someone who you are, what you did in the war, you’re dead. Or worse.

            By the time her new scent fades in your throat, you feel like you’ve regained some control over your body. You force yourself to take slow, deep breaths, counting up to four and down again with each exhalation. Karkat taught you that, after you – lost her and started having nightmares. You wish you could talk to him, or anyone. Everyone you trusted is dead, compromised, or has moved to a new Pesterchum handle in an effort to hide. At least, you hope some of them did that.

            The thing that smarts the most about it is that you almost won. You _should have_ fucking won. Even after Feferi died and you _thought_ Vriska died, you had numbers the empress couldn’t hope to beat. Then her soldiers started get stronger, faster, better. Some of them came with guns built into their bodies and skin that your weapons could only scratch. And then- her secret weapon. The hounds, made from nothing, without a soul or a mind to turn against her. You’ve heard there are more of them than the ones that slaughtered Karkat’s army, but until now you’ve avoided them, never seen one up close. Kanaya saw the Knight from a distance, though. He looked almost like a troll, she said – his skin looked real, though it was a warm brown rather than gray, and he didn’t have horns. The Condesce modeled them after a race of aliens she’d obliterated. You’re not sure if it was meant as an honor or as a cruel jest.

            In any case, if Vriska doesn’t turn you in first, you’re going to meet one. Whatever happens, you decide, you’re not going to show them your fear.

            You wait while the trolls in the respiteblocks around you return and get into their recuperacoons. For such a high-tech ship, it isn’t soundproofed well, at least not enough to thwart your ears. Every time you hear steps in the hall you hold your cane ready and stand by the door, ready to cull whatever violet fucks the Condesce sends to fetch you. But every time, the steps pass you by, or turn into their own block before they even reach you. You’re exhausted enough, finally, that you undress and drop into your recuperacoon, feeling calmer after the sopor hits your skin. You take your cane in with you, though. It can withstand a little slime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm back and I'm on a writing kick!


End file.
